I feel out of place in this house.
At 3 a.m., it’s almost silent. It’s almost completely dark. Because it’s not my house, I notice every little sound and every faint glowing light on electronic devices. But the only sound I really notice is the quiet, rhythmic breathing of my sleeping friend in the next room.
I haven’t slept much this week, because I’ve been sitting up at night with a friend who had major surgery last week for life-threatening cancer.
I’m not much of a nurse, but that’s not why I’m here. She just needs someone to help her get to a bathroom every hour or two. She has drain lines to clean and empty. Incisions to clean and bind. Medications to take. Pain to endure.
I’m just here to help her stand and then to lie back down. To move a bandaged leg that can’t move much on its own. To make sure she doesn’t fall.
As she sleeps in unpredictable intervals, I have a lot of time to think. Since I’ve known this friend since we were both children, you would think I would be worrying about the stage 4 cancer that threatens her life. But that’s not where my thoughts are tonight.
Instead, I’m thinking about my own life.
Maybe that means I’m selfish. Or maybe it just means I’m human. Or maybe it’s God’s way of putting me into an uncomfortable place of asking myself questions that scare me.

Trendy ‘anti-racists’ don’t realize they’ve been conned by Marxists
I want to live a life my kids will want to emulate as they grow up
‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’
Something in us usually wants to believe next year will be different
Don’t be so quick to walk away; you might be close to success
I need to communicate meaning, but my words vanish into a void
Loving a depressed person means holding tightly on trips through hell
Sudden realization of hunger for taste of kindred soul is killing me